


say hello to the night, lost in the shadows

by limegreenjello



Category: Lost Boys (Movies), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Halloween Oneshot, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Season 1 Steve Harrington, Sexuality Crisis, Smoking, Vampire Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-04 18:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limegreenjello/pseuds/limegreenjello
Summary: It's the late summer of 1986. Steve Harrington is on a road-trip with Tommy and Carol.For one night, they stop in Santa Carla, the ominously named "Murder Capital of the World".- Lost Boys AU with S1 Steve Harrington - who never came into contact with the Upside Down.





	say hello to the night, lost in the shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Another The Lost Boys crossover, because Billy was meant for that movie. Ngl, I rushed to get this up before Halloween night. So, I'm later than I wanted to be. I apologize if there are a few mistakes. Happy Halloween

The Santa Carla boardwalk is a dizzying, kaleidoscope of colors. The summer-air thick with humidity and seasoned with the briny salt of the sea and the sweet with the cloying scent of churros and pretzels.

The three of them had spent all day on the boardwalk: in the glaring sun and heat. Steve's tan ruddy and red on the high points of his shoulders, cheeks and nose. Tommy, on the other hand, had gained more than a few more freckles within the space of a few hours.

Despite spending the day there, the place felt very different in the night.

Down the stairwell that lead onto the beach, was a stage where a band was setting up their set - plucking and strumming their guitars.

Tommy looks out, chewing loudly on a mouthful of food: his salted pretzel in one hand and milkshake in the other.

Steve watches his look of ignorant bliss before he acts. Grabs the milkshake from his loose grip.

Tommy turns with a look of affront, food stored in his cheek like a hamster.

“Get your own, dumb-ass,” He says, warbled through food.

Steve pulls it out of his reach above his head. Tommy reaches for it - but it's no use. Steve's arms are longer. That doesn't stop Tommy leaning on and over him, like they're kids again.

“I _did_ have my own, dick-head,” Steve reminds him through a laugh. "You owe me,"

When they'd gone to pick up said milkshakes, some kid had called them assholes for cutting in line. Steve ignored him - it was just a kid, after all.

That is, the kid threw a balled-up grease-paper at them, catching Carol on the side of the head. Tommy was about to lay him out for that as payback. Steve chose, instead, to dump his milkshake over the kid’s head.

It fell in a pink, foamy frill before it splattered over his clothes and onto the floor. It got a laugh out of Tommy. Ultimately, it made him back off. Thinking about that kids face now made Steve’s stomach ache.

Steve takes the red straw of Tommy's milkshake between his lips with a smirk.

Tommy's eyes fall low for a beat – almost too long.“...Fine,” He mumbles, turning back to the stage.

It's then that Carol returns from the bathroom with a skip in her step. Red hair brushed and wispy with curls, her pink gloss re-applied and shining. She shoots a coy glance at Steve before she nestles up to Tommy.

“_Cold_,” She whines as she grabs Tommy’s arm, wrapping it around herself. Steve clears his throat and tears his eyes away.

The band starts. The lights lift and the people gathered start cheering. The drums and bass pound through the air like a pulse. Then, the air splits with the guitar.

The members of the audience start to move, head-bumping and thrashing. It's not the sort of music he usually listens to. But live in the open air, he can see the appeal.

"C'mon, let's get closer," Carol shouts excitedly over the music. She grasps Tommy's hand and they go down the stairs and onto the sand. They join a few splintered groups of people a few feet behind the large pit at the front.

Steve shuffles awkwardly at the head of the stairs, before he figures he should make his way down. He stands near Carol and Tommy, moving a little further away when the two of them get cosy.

That's when he sees him. Steve’s eyes find a flash of gold - a man stalking around the firelight of a burn-barrel.

The flickering flame catches on his toned, bare chest, peeking out from his open leather jacket. The gold of his hair and skin soaking up the color. One hand is pinched around his cigarette. He throws his head when he exhales into the night sky. Taking in the sound of the music, he smiles and sways.

Steve can't look away.

"Screw you, man!" A voice shouts from a few feet over, near the man in the leather jacket. It's two men. One stocky and bald and the other tall and gangly. Arguing. The gangly one pushes the other, hard. The stocky guy swings for him. But, bumps into a guy thrashing his head to the music.

After that...it's like a free for all.

Steve has never seen anything like it. The one fight sets off a chain reaction.

"Oh, shit-" Tommy laughs wildly.

The chaos doesn't even faze the man in the leather jacket until someone checks his shoulder. He stops like it's a mild incovenience. Then, turns to the one who bumped him.

The swing that follows is a blur, jerking his head to a sharp right. The guy collapses to the floor in a heap, legs folded awkwardly. 

The man in the leather jacket then dives in the middle of a large cluster. Tearing off one of the larger men off the other, to get to the one beneath him. He hauls him up onto his feet, fists balled in his shirt. The band keeps playing, apparently unbothered by the brawl.

“This place is nu-" Tommy is cut off when someone shoves into Tommy hard. He's knocked back onto the sand by a tall man with long, unkempt hair. Carol lets out a scream.

Steve lunges forward to grab the metal-head that pushed him. The one that was still looming over him, like he wasn't done with him yet. He leans down and raises his foot, like he intends to stomp him.

“Hey!” Steve yells. He brings his foot down on Tommy's ribs - and that's when Steve swings.

He catches the guy on the side of his ear. The larger man groans before he turns, grabs him by his throat and shoves him back hard. Off his feet.

The ground slips out from underneath him as he falls onto his back, winded. The large man towers over him, like he's going to spit at him.

Someone charges forward, tackling him over.

Steve sits up a little, eyes following the charge. The man in the leather jacket is straddling the guy. He swings _once, twice, three_ times. Jerking the man's head with until the man's eyes roll back, nose bloody and gritty with sand.

When he falls still, the man in the jacket raises up to stand. Walks over to Steve with a grin, digging his tongue against the inside of his lip. He reaches out his hand to him, knuckles printed red.

Steve hesitates - for a beat. Before, he grabs hold of his outstretched hand.

With ease, the man hauls him up right. Steve half-expects the same treatment. To be thrown to the floor, beaten to a pulp. Only - he just pulls him closer. Their hands clasped together. Breathing heaving.

He lets his bright blue eyes fall over him, in a way that makes Steve feel bare. A grin cuts across his cheeks.

There's a strange flash in his eyes - a change in color.

"You ought to plant your feet," Is all he says.

When he releases his hold, Steve stumbles back, speechless.

The other man leaves him cold. Returns to the crowd and into the brawl. The music is still raging, like this was just another part of the show.

The next thing he knows Tommy is there, cheekbone shiny and red with a developing bruise. He grabs Steve by the upper arm. “Let's get outta here,"

Steve briefly scans the crowd for a sign of the man in the leather jacket. Yet, he's lost within the crowd. They swarm in the center before the stage. More and more people piling in for the fight

“_Before_ the cops come, dude," Tommy shouts, dragging him forcefully from the chaos.

"Did he hurt you, baby?" Carol croons in the backseat.

Steve is no stranger to this situation. He sits in the driver seat of his bimmer with a loose, non-committal grip on his luke-warm beer.

There's a moan from the backseat behind him, the rustling of clothes and the wet sound of kissing.

"Steve," Carol says. He lifts his eye to the rear-view mirror. He finds her eyes in the looking-glass, beckoning him with a sultry glance. "You look a little lonely all the way over there,"

It’s not the first time they’ve done this. The _first_ was after his fight with Johnathan Byers, when Nancy Wheeler had ripped his heart out of his chest and crushed it under her dainty ballet-pumps.

All three of them had cruised over to his house that night. Blew through the pot he’d stowed away in his room.

He didn’t want to be alone that night – not when his parents were still gone for three more days. So, the two of them stayed over.

That's when Carol got things going, leaning in on Steve’s right to kiss him.

That hadn't changed. Now, _and_ then. She led – making it okay for them to follow. Or, at least, that's how Steve guessed Tommy liked to see it.

Tommy’s mouth stays at her throat, kissing the side of her neck. He doesn't speak - he never does during, either. Not in the heat of the moment. Not even when he pulls Steve in for a kiss that makes him sees stars - one that’s filled with a need that Steve feels curl tight in the pit of his stomach.

Steve is getting tired of having to pretend he doesn’t notice. Or, that it doesn’t bother him. He's tired of acting like these thoughts don't eat away at him.

Steve swallows a small lump in his throat. "I'm going for a walk," He pushes open the car door and closes it with a hard slam. Stumbles up the parking lot.

If they call after him, he doesn't hear it. He needs the fresh air and room to breathe.

He walks far out past the flashing stores and noise. Finds the edge of the old, abandoned pier that had once stretched out far into the sea.

Carol was invested in all those rumors and mysteries of Santa Carla. Including the one about the pier. Of a mysterious fire that broke out in 1984. Blazed through half of the stretch in the dry, summer-heat. They salvaged one half of it, boarded off the point where it stopped spreading.

The far end looks like the burnt end of an extinguished match. The old supporting beams from the old pier rise out from the waves like little spikes.

Steve walks out as far as he can. Ignores the clumsily laid red, caution cones so he can lean out onto the wooden-railing and stare out at the sea.

He lets gaze drift off into the horizon. The moon’s light reflecting on the choppy waves like glass from a shattered mirror. The large expanse of dark, deep water is strangely comforting. 

"All alone?"

Steve starts at the voice.

The wooden panels creak beneath his feet when he turns. There, a few feet away, is the man from the beach.

"It's you..." Steve hears himself sigh.

The other man tilts his head, brows quirking and smile curious.

Steve flushes hot. "Sorry, it's just that I saw you earlier…," He says. “On the beach,” _No shit_, he thinks. He wants to kick himself.

Yet, the other man just smiles, teeth catching the light. "Likewise,"

He walks with purpose towards him, eyes trailing over his face. Steve feels oddly cornered, like he's being circled by a vulture.

"Billy," He smiles when he reaches him, hand coming out for him to shake. Steve takes it and gives him his name in return.

Billy tucks his hand in his pocket, fishing for something. He props the end of the cigarette between his red lips, passing the box Steve's way.

“You smoke?”

“Sure,” Steve takes one from him and Billy leans forward as he lights it for him. His pale eyes swallow the light of the tiny flame. They're almost _pretty._ Hooded by long, dark lashes that would make a lot of girls jealous.

Billy lifts them to meet his gaze and Steve _swears_ he sees it again: the odd flicker in them that was there before. He _must_ be imagining it. It's a strange trick of the light - or something. He'd seen a girl once with a similar set of eyes - pretty hazel ones that changed from golden yellow to light green. 

"Staying here long?” Billy asks, exhales a plume a little rudely in his direction. “If you are...you might wanna improve that limp left-hook of yours,”

“Thanks,” Steve says, sarcastic. He’d never been good at fights, but seemed to end up in a lot of them. Fighting was Tommy’s way, even when they were little kids.

“I’m not sticking around,” He tells him, blows some smoke back at him - tit for tat. “Just on a road trip with a few of friends before they head back to college in the fall,"

Billy smirks, eyes him thoughtfully. "And, what about you, pretty boy?"

Steve’s brain skips like a record. Briefly, he lowers his eyes to the man’s chest again, where his golden skin is exposed to his sternum.

"What?" He says, flushing.

“College.” Billy's face is serious when he replies - like he hadn't said anything strange.

"Oh. I'm not at college. I work for my Dad,"

Billy laughs, in a mocking way - like that was somehow typical. Steve is used to the tone: he thinks he's got it made.

"And, how_ is_ that life?” He asks, smiling coy.

“It’s….” Steve hesitates for a beat.

Billy seems to take note, his eyes narrowing the longer he hesitates. He runs his tongue once over his lip and Steve's eyes drop, finding the wet shine of them in the dim-light.

When he leans in a little closer, his voice is warm and smothering. “You can be honest with a stranger...right?”

He's closer now than he should be. Than what's _normal._ The side of his arm pressed against his, their elbows aligned as he looks over his face.

Steve doesn’t want to move. He can't. Not without making himself look like he’s freaking out - which he is. But, he doesn't want that to be obvious. He doesn't want him to _know_.

So, he stays still.

He holds his gaze defiantly, like it's a challenge. “It kinda sucks, actually,” He laughs, a little grim. “My Dad’s kind of a prick,”

Billy laughs. "You and me both,"

A silence spreads between them and Steve feels it again. The heaviness in the air that he can't help but fall into - he wants to give in. To sink deep.

He swallows the dryness in his throat, stubs out his half-finished cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. "Thanks for the smoke," He smiles politely and turns to leave.

As he turns to leave, he hears a strange sound under his feet. There's a long groaning _creak_. Like the wail of a ghost in some cheap horror movie.

Then, Steve drops suddenly.

He feels the ground slip out from beneath him, his foot breaking through the wooden floor.

"Careful," Billy is there by his side before he can let out a cry.

"Shit-" Steve curses as he holds onto him for dear life. Billy hauls him upwards easily.

There's a scent on his skin that Steve can't place. He smells like cologne, the salt of the sea and bitter scent of bonfire smoke. But, there's something else, too.

He feels like an idiot when he realizes he's still clinging onto him. Billy chuckles a little - finds his gaze with teasing grin.

"That was close," When he's set him back upright, Billy brushes the side of his shoulder, grinning. "It's a long way down,"

"Yeah, that would've hurt," Steve plays along, laughing a little - even though his heart is pounding.

"Hurt?" Billy stops. And, for a moment, Steve sees that light again. "A fall like that...." He tilts forward, whistles down the gap. The sound echoes. He lifts his eyes again, the light catching his white, smile. "_That_ would kill you,"

Steve peers down again through the hole and down to the sand below. The tide washes up on the splintered driftwood. He pictures himself there, at the bottom. Blood turning the sand black. A cold, fear bleeds through him.

"Well,” Steve swallows. “Maybe not..."

Billy advances another step closer. "_Maybe_ not," He laughs. "If you'd landed right, you might've only broken your legs,"

_Only?_ Steve thinks, stomach twisting.

"Trapped down there for a while. No one would see you. No-one around for miles to hear you scream or cry out," He smirks, raises his eyebrows - like he's enjoying this. "And _then_, the tide-"

"I get the picture, man," Steve cuts him off and turns to leave. That's when Billy catches his wrist.

"I'm waitin'...on a thank-you," He says, eyes flashing with an eerie light.

"Thank you," Steve complies, a little stiffly. He peers down at his wrist. "Are you gonna let go, or...?"

The anger melts away to a self-satisfied grin. Yet, Billy lets go. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” He’s grinning - completely insincere.

“Sure, man," Steve snaps, irritable. "Whatever,”

He turns to leave again. _It’s late_, he tells himself. Carol and Tommy will wonder where he’s gone. They'll probably be looking for him.

He heads back up the pier, towards the beach. The lights of the fairground, stores and restaurants flicker in the distance.

"You knew this place was unstable,”

Before Steve realizes it, Billy has moved again. Now, he's _in front_ of him, stepping in his path.

_He’s fast_, Steve thinks, eyes wide.

Billy takes another step closer when he speaks. “You got a death wish, or what?”

Steve tucks his hands in his pockets. "I guess I just figured they'd put more of an effort in boarding the place up, if it was so dangerous,"

At that, Billy stops advancing. “Then, they really ought to board up this entire town,"

"Oh," _That_ old story. When Steve laughs, Billy goes strangely still.

"Yeah, I don't buy into the whole "_murder capital of the world_" shit,"

Billy's mouth curves upwards into an almost feral grin, tongue pressing against his canine tooth.

"...You don't?"

"No," Steve scoffs. It's ridiculous: just some dumb tourist trap for weirdos. "Do _you_?"

Billy stalks closer. "A_ lotta_ people go missing round here,"

"I mean, sure," Steve shrugs. "Drunk people who go out for a swim or past out on the beach and... get lost in the tide or something. This place isn't exactly up to code,"

Billy just smirks at him, like he has a private joke that he's not willing to share.

Steve feels his face flush. He's getting a little pissed off. Between all the looks, and the weird attempts to scare him, he's starting to wonder where the hell this guy gets off.

Under his gaze, he feels like an ant under a microscope. Steve wants to turn it on him, this time. To put him under the glare.

"If you're so worried about danger, then why are _you_ out here?" He presses finally.

Billy's mouth purses on the last exhale of smoke before he flicks it away onto the beach. Sends it spinning through the air like a flaming pinwheel. When he steps forward, Steve backs up against the wall of an old, surf-store.

"I followed you."

Steve stills. He tries to remain calm when he replies - yet he feels his heart skip a beat. "…Why?"

"Wanted to get you alone," Another smile cuts across Billy's cheeks, teeth glinting in the light.

_Why?_ lingers on Steve's lips, once more. But he doesn't speak. Because he _knows _why. Or, a part of him suspected. It's a suspicion that is definitely founded when Billy leans forward. Hand braced on the wall by Steve’s ear.

Blue eyes drop low to his mouth, tongue coming out to trail over the soft-looking swell of his flushed lips. Billy's glance is watchful with every inch that he closes between them, so slow that it almost feels like a tease. Steve wets his own lips before they touch, before he leans in.

Billy's lips are surprisingly soft.

He's light - at first. Catching Steve's bottom lip in-between his own. The slight rough stubble above his lip grinds against Steve's skin. Steve seeks the rough, wet feel of them as he tilts his head. As soon as he pushes, Billy meets him with more force.

He deepens it first, tongue gliding past the seam of Steve's lips, urging them open. When he does, he's quick to move. To bring his hands up to Steve's chest, drag over his skin in a way that sends an instant chill through him.

He backs him up until he’s pressed against the outside wall of the old, abandoned surf store. Until, it digs into Steve's back. Billy grips around his hips to pull them flush together. Blood rushes to his groin, heat pooling and drawing tight.

Steve pulls back abruptly. Panic dawns on him when he _aches _for his touch_, _trapped in the fabric his jeans. Realizing with full clarity just how much he likes this.

"This is..." Steve splutters. "I'm not-"

He feels like an idiot for the way the words come out - a knee-jerk reflex. One that makes no sense when he kissed Billy back. When he had spent the last month thinking about Tommy's kiss - someone he’s known since childhood.

But, there’s no denying that he likes this. Even though the realization is a little unnerving.

"You're not what?" Billy taunts, breath tickling Steve's lips. "You scared to have a little fun?"

Steve gulps. "I'm not…I’m not scared," He lies.

Billy just smiles at him, hand brushing once over Steve's hair as he pushes it back from his forehead. "No one can see us out here," He says - the same haunting words from earlier. "There's no one around for miles," A grin cuts across his cheeks as he leans closer. "It’s just you and me,"

This time, it’s Steve that moves.

Billy responds roughly as he pins him back. So, he's got him right where he wants him, hands dragging all over his body. Steve can’t keep up. It's going faster than he can register. He gets caught up in it. His fingers grip around his waist, finding the heat of his bare skin under his leather jacket.

Billy catches Steve's bottom lip between his teeth, tugs on it - almost breaking the skin. Steve winces but still feels another wave of heat barrel down through him. When Billy releases the clamp of his teeth, Billy grins. Then, reaches down between them to grind his hand _hard_ and insistent against Steve's need.

"I can hear your heart," He moans with a strange reverence against his cheek.

Steve’s knees buckle at the proximity of the words and the friction of his hand.

Billy’s breath catches, hisses a little. “I need it beating faster,”

Steve barely gets out a reply before Billy sinking down on his knees, undoing his belt and zipper with deft fingers. He shoots him a look from the floor, eyes lit with wild light.

Steve lets his head fall back when he takes him in his mouth. He takes him deep, slides around him with ease and pace.

It's clear he's done this before. He knows exactly how to work him in a way that makes him gasp and tremble. He’s quick to encourage Steve’s hands in his hair. Lets him grasp hold on his curls as he rocks his hips, bucking into the warmth of his throat.

He gets him there quick. It builds up on him - impending and inevitable. Steve arches up on the balls of his feet, toes curling in his sneakers. He finishes loudly, hands gripping tight around the roots of his hair. It washes his mind blank and Billy swallows around him. He keeps going until he's completely spent, twitching and sensitive.

When Steve falls boneless, Billy is up on him within seconds.

He presses up against him and kisses the side of his neck. Feverish and eager, like a man starved_. _Steve is still coming down from the high when he hears it - a strange click by his ear. Right where Billy's lips trail over his skin, soft and teasing_. _

A _sharp_, sudden pain pierces his neck. Pain bursts through him like a flare. It's debilitating. He doesn't hear the sound of his own cry - over the deafening roar of his blood in his ears.

Billy’s tongue drags warm up the side of his neck. The warm glide of it soothes the sting and ache. A shiver shudders through him body, reverberates down his spine and all the way down his legs.

When Billy pulls away from, he feels the skin of his throat pulse. _Wet._ Chilled in the slight sea breeze.

There's a hollow, click sound.

Steve's hazy when he readjusts to the world. Eyes heavy and half-mast.

Billy’s are _gold_: he didn’t imagine it. Both pupils reflect the moonlight like a cat’s eye, flickering like a mirror.

It's beyond unnatural. Steve would think he was dreaming if it weren't for the pain. He's trying to process Billy's other-worldly eyes when he catches the scent in the air.

When he breathes it in, his heart thumps in his chest like a war-drum. It's thick and heady. Earthy and sharp. _Alive._ Beating.

Billy raises his right hand: wrist punctured by pointed, grinning teeth. The blood is black in the night, dripping onto the wooden floor like spilled ink.

It's messed up how much Steve wants it. _Needs _it. He wants to wrap his lips around it, to draw it out, feel it fill his mouth. It's all he can think about. The swell of his own dry tongue in his mouth, the way his throat is burning and contracting.

Billy flexes his fingers. It trails down the length of his ring fingers and index, taps onto the ground like rain. The waste of every drop wounds him.

Steve reaches for him, pawing around the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Easy does it," Billy guides it close and Steve takes what he wants.

He lifts his eyes to meet Billy's as his mouth closes over his skin. It graces his lips and he sighs. The taste makes his head spin, rushes through him faster than any hit he’s ever had. It beats _through_ him as he drinks. Floods his body with warmth. It’s making him stronger, invincible – even. He feels like he could do anything.

"That's it," Billy moans.

Steve responds in kind, whining against his skin. The sound is desperate - but he doesn't care. The thick, warm taste of him is addicting. It isn't enough. _More_, he thinks. He purses his mouth as he sucks harder. He presses his teeth into the flesh, until it_ pops _in his mouth, skin breaking like fruit, flooding his mouth with more.

Steve feels a hand on his throat. He’s pushed him back against the store-wall. Steve blinks away stars.

"You're greedy," Billy says, tone cutting.

Steve is too out of it to fear the threat in his words. He feels oddly weightless, like he’s floating. The taste is thick on his lips, viscous and warm on his tongue. Steve licks them clean, sucking the bottom one in his mouth to savor the taste.

That earns him a wolfish grin from Billy. He seems pleased. Slowly, he lifts two fingers to Steve’s lips, pushing against them until they part. He presses the pad of his index against his tongue, gracing him with the smallest taste. Steve's lips wrap around his finger with a pleased hum, sucking them dry.

That has Billy laughing again, a little breathlessly. He smiles as he pulls them out of Steve’s mouth.

Steve falls a little heavy in his arms. He's so tired. He feels full of warmth, of lightness. Billy maneuvers him, carries him, his feet dragging along the floor.

He hears a loud, sudden clatter. The crack and snap of wood splintering. Billy carries him into the old store. The air heavy with dust, cobwebs catching on Steve's face.

If he were more aware, he might flinch at that. But, he feels weightless like he's slipping away. Billy sets him down behind the cashier desk. Sets him down against the wall, slumped and hidden from sight.

"You'll want to stay out of the sun, pretty boy," He says. "It’ll give you one hell of a hangover in the morning,"

Billy raises to stand and Steve suddenly panics. He's frantic when he reaches for him, fingers curling around his sleeve. He feels like he’s fading. Darkness bleeds at the corners of his vision, narrowing in smaller and smaller.

"Don't...don't leave me here,"

Billy leans down again. "It's almost sun-up," He laughs, like that means he _has_ to leave. Steve doesn't understand. He still clings on as hard as he can, eyes falling heavy.

Billy brushes Steve’s hair away from his forehead, fingers softer than he’s felt all night. Steve leans into them, seeking their comfort.

"Don't be afraid," He tells him. Steve makes out his slowly spreading smile in the haze - it's a blur. The last thing he hears is Billy's soft, sure voice.

“Come find me when you wake,"


End file.
